e for a cocktail. Eleanor is
quite cranky if she misses hers."

"Beastly stupid place, don't you think?" Miss Banniman inquired of her
sweetheart.

"Um-m! I haven't found it so," Roly said, with a sigh of relief. "Fact
is, I've been quite entertained."

"You have _such_ absurd tastes. A dash of absinthe in mine, if you
please, waiter. Papa has ordered the car attached to the evening train,
and we're dining aboard. What d'you say to Pinehurst and a week of
golf?"

Roly felt a sudden distaste for Pinehurst, for golf, for all the places
and people he had known. "Lovely!" he managed to say; then, summoning
his courage: "I'll join you later, perhaps. Sorry to break up the party,
but I've a little business here that will take a day or so."

"Business? _You?_ How funny!" exclaimed Eleanor.

"Too bad!" her father said. "It's blooming hot here, and the flies are
awful."

The others joined in commiserating the young man. When they arose to go
up-stairs and prepare for the train, Roly fell in behind them with Miss
Banniman.

"See here, Eleanor, are you sure you love me?" he asked.

She lifted her brows slightly. "Not at all. What put such an idea into
your head? You're a charming boy, even if you are a bit romantic. But
love--I thought we understood each other."

"I've been thinking--something unusual for me--and I don't believe we're
either of us quite ready to take the fatal plunge. How does it strike
you?"

"I'm in no hurry," Miss Banniman said, indifferently. "Let's call it off
for the present. We can try it on again in the autumn, if we feel like
it."

"Mighty sensible of you," Van Dam told her, with relief.

"Oh, that's all right! Don't let this keep you away from Pinehurst,
however. The season's nearly over, and we'll need you for a foursome."
She extended her hand, and Van Dam took it gratefully.

Her father called from the elevator: "See you in a few days, Roly. Good
luck with your business, and don't take any bad money." Mr. Banniman's
use of slang was neither brilliant nor original, but he was chuckling as
the car shot up out of sight.

Van Dam hastened to the desk and called for a city directory, then ran
through it to the L's.

"_L-a, L-e--_" Ah, there it was! "Le Duc, Felice--wid. res. 247 Boule
St."

He made a note of the address, then settled his hat upon his head, lit a
cigarette, and walked jauntily out into the evening and turned toward
Canal Street. It was growing cool; the street lights